


Flip

by eternalsojourn



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First time anal, M/M, Rimming, top!eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsojourn/pseuds/eternalsojourn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has never bottomed before. He's always wanted to, but never trusted anyone to do it right. Eames is up to the task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flip

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a [kink meme prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/19632.html?thread=46490800#t46490800).
> 
> Also, there's a [NSFW gif](http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp9nviqjfB1qcotzfo1_500.gif) of the final position here that I used for *ahem* reference.

“What, you’ve never?” Eames said, hand resting on the bottle of beer on the arm of his chair.

Arthur shook his head, took a drink of his own beer and started to peel off the label. “Nope. Top by default. I just somehow always ended up with bottoms. I don’t know. I think I attract people who want me to take control.”

“Oh, I think you attract more than just them,” Eames said, smirking. “But maybe you just never let anyone top before. Maybe,” Eames lifted his left hand and rubbed his fingers together, as if he was playing with his chip although it remained safely in his pocket. “Maybe you just never trusted anyone enough to top you.”

Arthur laughed softly, still peeling his label. “Maybe I just like when a job’s done right, and I don’t have patience for people who don’t pay enough attention.”

“So what you’re telling me is, you want to bottom? But your control freakish tendencies have gotten in the way?” Eames’s lips twitched, suppressing a laugh.

Arthur looked up from under his brow then, his sheepish half-smile enough of an answer for Eames.

“Topping is an art, it’s true.” Eames said, considering. “I mean, anyone can jackhammer their way to the finish line, but a good topping takes some finesse. Flair.” Eames waved his hand in a little flourish before picking up his beer.

“And in your humble opinion, you top with both finesse and flair?” Arthur asked, eyebrow in an exaggerated challenging arch.

Eames shot Arthur an indignant look. “I have it on good authority that I’m no slouch in that department, thank you very much for your confidence, Arthur.”

Arthur stared at Eames for an agonizingly long minute, until Eames was certain there was either something on his face or Arthur had just lost the plot entirely.

“Show me,” Arthur said, serious.

“What. Now?”

“Why not? Job’s done, our flights aren’t till later tomorrow.” Arthur shrugged, then tipped his bottle to the light. “Well. Maybe not right this second. I’m out of beer,” he teased as he stood up to go to the kitchen of the holiday house they’d rented for the job.

As he walked he thought about how he hadn’t addressed the question of whether it was a good idea at all and wondered whether Eames would bring it up when Arthur returned. But he was just opening his beer on the island when Eames stepped up behind him, lifted the bottle out of Arthur’s hand and set it on the side counter instead. He reached his hand around to grip Arthur’s jaw and pressed his body up against Arthur’s, his groin fitting snugly against the curve of Arthur’s arse.

“How about now?” Eames rumbled, nose just barely brushing the back of Arthur’s jaw, breath hot on his neck.

Arthur’s nostrils flared slightly in arousal at the audacity of it, a level of boldness unprecedented in his sexual experience. He supposed his demeanour generally discouraged this sort of behaviour, but trust Eames to see through it. “If you insist,” he replied, leaning back into Eames’s body, relishing the warmth of it, surprised by how it molded to his form in the embrace.

Turning Arthur around, Eames crowded him against the counter again and kissed him, kneading his neck while Arthur’s hand gripped Eames’s shoulders. When Eames pulled back, Arthur followed, craning his neck and Eames laughed, amused. “Let’s get you out of these, shall we?” Eames said, making short work of divesting Arthur of his clothes, though his progress was made difficult by Arthur’s efforts to do the same to Eames.

When they’d both kicked their clothes to the side, Eames admiringly ran his hands over Arthur’s torso, drawing his thumb down from the hollow of his throat to his navel, then gracefully sank to his knees. Arthur’s cock stood at full attention, smooth, straight and long, and Eames gently brushed his lips against it for a moment before holding it against Arthur’s belly, out of his way so that he could lick and suck at Arthur’s sac. Arthur rolled his head to the side and closed his eyes, pressing his hips forward and spreading his legs. When Eames pulled off with a messy line of spit dripping from his lips and took Arthur’s length fully into his mouth, Arthur held Eames’s head in both hands, guiding Eames’s head and thrusting into his mouth.

Eames pulled off and chuckled. “And you wonder why people assume you want to top.”

Arthur just smiled and used one hand to guide himself back in, then resumed fucking Eames’s mouth, aiming for the back of his throat. Eames took it, though he gagged a little once. With one hand gently massaging Arthur’s sac and the other firmly gripping his arse, it wasn’t long before Arthur was saying, “‘m gonna come,” with a small tap to Eames’s head. Eames pulled off, mouth open and firmly stroked until Arthur did, painting Eames’s cheeks, his lips, most of it getting in his mouth.

Breathing hard, Arthur reached down and scooped the remaining come off Eames’s face and fed it to him, Eames turning his head and rooting for Arthur’s finger, eager for it but unwilling to look away from Arthur’s face.

Eames stood and kissed Arthur briefly before turning him, gently but firmly, and pressed on his back to bend him over the island. Clearly unused to be manhandled, Arthur resisted for a moment before realizing this is what he wanted.

“Relaxed now? Or do you need a little extra help?” Eames said, voice rough, his strong fingers kneading Arthur’s arse.

“That’s for you to judge, isn’t it? Finesse — isn’t that what you said?”

Eames chuckled and dropped once more to his knees. “I’ll just make sure then.”

He spread Arthur open and licked in, burying his face, glad he’d bothered to shave off his scruff that morning. He pulled back periodically to look, a line of silvery spit drooping between them, before ducking back in. Arthur arched and moaned, fingers arching on the counter.

Eames slid his thumb in gently, licking around the edge. He stood and nudged Arthur’s legs apart further with his knee, kicking lightly at Arthur’s one socked foot with his toe, never removing his thumb from where it was sunk in Arthur’s arse. Arthur’s hands were splayed on the cold marble of the kitchen island, sweat glistening on his brow and upper lip.

“I always knew this would be a good look for you,” Eames grinned. Arthur glared over his shoulder but it lacked bite.

Eames pulled Arthur’s left cheek open further, pulsing his thumb in and out, staring down at the damp downy hairs, the muscle that clenched on his digit. The slick heat inside was soft and smooth, yielding, but it was the only part of Arthur that was. The rest of him is tense and defensive.

Eames withdrew his thumb and inserted his middle finger, sliding it in gently before leaning over and catching Arthur around the waist with his arm.

“You feel good,” he said, all trace of teasing gone. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to Arthur’s back, to his hard ribcage and felt Arthur relax a little. He pulled out his finger and petted Arthur’s hole for a minute, just long enough for Arthur to push back in impatience. He responded with two, sliding them slowly past the ring of muscle and separating them slightly, testing. The resistance was to be expected, so he turned his hand palm down and curled his fingers, gently pressing to see if Arthur responded. He did, with a small jerk and a moan.

“Ah, you like that, do you?” Eames said, pleased. He gently petted, keeping up the pressure and watched as Arthur clenched his fists. He continued as they found a rhythm, Arthur pulsing his body and Eames stroking, gradually pressing harder. He reached under and gave Arthur’s hardening prick a few gentle tugs before sliding his hand to Arthur’s belly. Arthur made a sound of protest, and Eames noted with some pride that Arthur appeared to be beyond words.

Eames had no intention of denying Arthur pleasure, though, as he massaged Arthur’s belly for a moment before pressing his hands together to squeeze Arthur’s sensitive prostate, eliciting a shout of surprise.

“Too much?” Eames asked, easing off.

“Yeah,” Arthur gasped. Then, “No. No, do that again.”

With a sly grin, Eames did, starting off gently and regaining his previous rhythm. And if Arthur was shameless about presenting himself before, he was positively wanton under Eames’s latest attentions, spreading himself out as much as possible, begging without words for Eames to do as he liked.

Eames slid another finger in and it was tight but less than he expected. He didn’t think he could wait any longer to sink his cock in, so he pulled at Arthur’s shoulder to get him to stand and turn. He kissed Arthur deeply, ignoring Arthur’s frown of confusion, and reached down to grip Arthur’s arse. “Up,” he said, and at Arthur’s incredulous look, he said it again, firmer. He kissed Arthur again, and this time Arthur hoisted himself up with Eames’s lift and wrapped his legs around. Eames’s cock brushed Arthur’s sac while Arthur’s rested heavy and hot between them. Arthur was taller, but Eames was strong, and carried him off to the bedroom down the hall, kissing desperately all the way.

Eames let go of Arthur’s legs beside the bed and kissed down his neck, licked at the sweat at the hollow of his throat and pulled Arthur’s body tight to his own. His fingers found their way back to Arthur’s hole, slipping on inside to find it still loose.

“On your front,” he said, opening the bedside table to pull out a condom and lube, pausing to take in Arthur’s long muscular form, pale against the dark grey of the duvet. He rolled on the condom, slicked himself up and rubbed the remainder onto Arthur.

He straddled Arthur’s legs, nudging them closer together and used one hand to guide himself in. Once halfway inside he dropped to his elbows and covered Arthur’s body with his own, pressing him to the mattress. Arthur groaned and arched his hips up to take more of Eames in. Arthur was bearing down, no doubt an instruction he himself had given before, and remembering to take his own advice. Eames pushed in to the hilt, Arthur’s ring of muscle gripping and sliding, making Eames dizzy for a second.

“Fuck, Arthur,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I’m the first one inside you.”

Arthur huffed a laugh. “The first real one, anyway,” but his laugh was interrupted by a gasp as Eames pulled almost all the way out. Arthur clenched onto Eames’s cock as though trying to prevent him from slipping out entirely. Reflexively, Eames petted Arthur’s shoulder with his thumb in reassurance.

When Eames pushed back in, Arthur moved his hand to lace his fingers through Eames’s, and Eames did the same with their other hands. Together they began to move, rolling their hips while Eames pressed his lips to Arthur’s shoulder, just breathing on his skin, feeling Arthur move underneath him.

After a while he could sense that Arthur was grinding his own cock into the mattress as much as he was pushing back onto Eames’s, so Eames picked up his pace slightly, grinding in and began kissing Arthur’s back, his neck. He had lifted his weight off a little to allow greater movement, fucking into Arthur harder, less about Arthur’s enjoyment and more about Eames becoming mindless. But it only fueled Arthur’s desire more as he bucked and grunted, sweaty, gripping Eames’s hands so tight that Eames couldn’t let go without real effort.

Arching his head forward, pressing his forehead to Arthur’s shoulder, Eames fucked in fast and hard until he came, then stilled. He extracted his hand from Arthur’s, held the condom and eased himself out with a sigh. He tied off and tossed the condom, then urged Arthur up on all fours, reaching between his legs to grip his cock, using his other hand to rub his thumb around Arthur’s red, loosened arse. Arthur gripped the pillow and just let Eames milk him, rocking his hips slightly as Eames tugged and rubbed. Eames shifted so he could reach down and lick the underside of Arthur’s erection, tonguing the tip and making it slick so he could grip and slide, jerking fast. In short minutes, Arthur came, spurting onto the bedspread and burying his face in the pillow.

Eames stroked down Arthur’s hip and Arthur worked his knees out from under himself and shifted to lay on his side, out of way of the spattered duvet. Eames moved to the other side and lay on his back, breathing to centre himself once more.

Arthur looked at him, small smile playing around the corner of his lips, but too tired to turn it into anything more.

“You made me waste a beer, asshole,” he said and Eames laughed, just a rumble of his chest.

“I thought I’d already made it up to you,” Eames replied, then rolled over onto his side and pulled Arthur closer. Arthur arched his eyebrow.

“Oh god, are you a snuggler?” Arthur asked in mock disdain.

“And you’re not? You mean to tell me you fuck your partners then leave them cold? For shame, Arthur,” Eames teased. He met Arthur’s eyes, both of them laughing softly, then he stopped and looked at Arthur’s lips for a moment before leaning in for a kiss, just a soft press of lips on lips.

A frown flickered across Arthur’s brow at the unexpected moment of tenderness, but his hand drifted of its own accord over to Eames’s waist.

Eames pulled away first, rolling off the bed and bounding up to leave the room. Arthur watched him go, baffled, but Eames returned moments later with a warm damp cloth.

“No shower?” Arthur asked.

“Mm. You can if you want, but I’m knackered.”

Arthur considered for a second then reached his hand out. “No, this is good,” he said as he took the proffered cloth and cleaned himself off quickly before tossing it back and climbing under the covers. He guessed Eames did the same, but Arthur was already drifting off by the time he felt the bed dip; he was clearly much more tired than he thought.

***

Arthur woke to the sun in his eyes streaming in through the crack in the heavy curtains that covered the sliding doors that led to the patio. The bed was empty, and when he padded down the hallway he heard the shower running in the bathroom. He stepped inside to find it barely steamy; Eames must have just started.

He slid the door open as Eames looked over his shoulder at him, hair slicked back, eyelashes glistening. Arthur stepped in.

“I forgot to ask. Do you always top?” he said, sliding his hand over Eames’s arse. Eames turned and pulled Arthur closer.

“Not always,” Eames replied, smirking.

**End**


End file.
